


Sneak Attack

by amylaura



Series: In the Name of Self-Defence [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Exchange, Rimming, Slash, Slight Military Kink, Sneak Attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 15:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4065403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amylaura/pseuds/amylaura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's had a particularly stressful day at work and just wants a quiet night at home. Sherlock has other ideas for the evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sneak Attack

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow-up to _In the Name of Self-Defence_. It's probably not necessarily to have read the first part, but the basic premise is that after both Sherlock and John were injured while chasing a subject, Sherlock proposes that they work on their defences by attacking each other when they aren't expecting it. It always seems to end with sex.
> 
> One quick note: while Sherlock does surprise John in this story, it's absolutely consensual. There were negotiations about rules before they agreed to test each other this way and there is a safe-word in case one of them ever wants to stop. Since they are in a long-term, monogamous relationship, they also don't use condoms because they are regularly tested. Safe sex is important!

The door to Baker Street closed with a solid and satisfying thump. John Watson took a minute to lean against it, savouring the quiet as it settled around him. Today had been a bad day; patient after patient had insisted that they were suffering from some dread malady instead of the stomach flu that was going around. John found it all infuriating. Why bother going to a doctor if you weren't going listen to anything they had to say? But he was finally done for the day and now he was looking forward to two days off. 

As a bonus, Sherlock had texted an hour ago to say that he was heading over to Bart's to use their lab for a few hours. He had been growing increasingly restless over the last couple of days, since the Yard hadn’t had any interesting murders and the blog had only produced a couple of requests to investigate suspected cheating spouses. John had hidden his gun, just to keep him from shooting the walls again. He was definitely looking forward to several hours of blissful quiet with nothing more than a good cuppa and his book, away from aggravating patients and a bored genius.

John sighed wearily as he moved towards the staircase. A quick glance down the hall showed no light coming from under Mrs. Hudson’s door; he supposed she must have gone out for the evening. A concerned frown grew across his face; she hadn't mentioned anything about plans this morning when he had dropped by on his way to the clinic. She didn't always tell them her plans, of course, but she didn’t usually take off unexpectedly. But John just shrugged off his concern as he started to climb the stairs. Mrs. Hudson had proven that she could more than take care of herself; she certainly didn’t need him hovering over her.

A second sigh escaped from his lips as he nudged his way into the sitting room, this one even louder than the first. Setting his bag down by the door and nudging off his shoes, John took a minute to soak in the silence as he stretched his arms over his head. The pop of his stiff joints changed the sigh to a groan. Just then, a creak from the floorboards broke the silence and caused John to snap his head around, looking for the sound of the noise. It had sounded like it came from nearby, and it definitely sounded louder than a typical creak. But the flat looked like it was supposed to: empty and quiet. He shrugged; it was probably some part of this old building settling just a little bit more. With a shrug, John meandered towards the kitchen; the sooner he started the kettle, the quicker he could settle into his armchair.

He had only taken two steps towards the kitchen, however, when movement in the short hallway towards their bedroom caught his eye. Before he had time to do more than register that there was something there, a heavy weight slammed into his side with enough force to send him staggering into the sitting room. Arms closed around his shoulders, pinning his own arms to the side. Trying to figure out who was attacking him, John whipped his head backwards, hearing a slight crunch as he made solid connection with the nose of the person behind him.

A smile spread over his features as he recognized Sherlock's indignant squawk. John relaxed a fraction once he realized that this wasn’t an attack. He stayed still for a second while he tried to decide if he was in the mood for one of their self-defence practise sessions. He knew he could end this with a word - he was tired after all - but suddenly, sitting in silence wasn't nearly as appealing as working out some of his frustrations with some physical exertion.

All it took was a second to gather himself before John began his counter attack. He wrenched his arms upward, using surprise to break Sherlock's hold. Before Sherlock knew what was happening, John had grabbed one of his arms and after a quick shift in body position, pulled with all his strength. His lower centre of gravity gave him an advantage and with a little twisting and hip thrusting, he was able to throw Sherlock's whole body over his shoulder.

Luckily, they had moved into the centre of the room, where it was fairly clear, since Sherlock went crashing down onto the floorboards. As the pictures shook on the walls, John took a second to be grateful that Mrs. Hudson had gone out. Even as he thought that, the final piece of tonight’s puzzle clicked into position. Sherlock much have had something to do with her departure. He wondered idly, as Sherlock pulled himself to his feet, just what he had promised their landlady to get her to leave.

With a little bit of groaning and glaring, Sherlock made it back to his feet. John just stood there chuckling with his hands clasped behind his back in the classic "at ease" pose. John's smile grew even wider as he realized just how much he had relaxed since he stepped through the door. He wouldn't admit it right now for anything - there was no need to inflate Sherlock’s ego any more than it already was - but he definitely had a knack of knowing just when John needed an outlet like this.

John barely gave Sherlock enough time to get his breath back before he launched his own attack. John had one of Sherlock's arms in a tight grasp before the taller man knew what was happening. While he was trying to twist it up behind Sherlock's back however, Sherlock's arm shifted unexpectedly and John felt the bony wrist slip through his fingers. He grabbed for it again, but Sherlock managed to slip just out of range.

John and Sherlock started to circle each other in the middle of the sitting room, each sizing the other up. They didn’t even make a complete circle before John made his move, however. He was determined to keep Sherlock from using his greater height and reach to his advantage. Once Sherlock had his back to the kitchen, John let out a short yell and lunged. He made solid contact with Sherlock’s chest and managed to get his arms around Sherlock's slim hips. As he lifted Sherlock's feet up off the floor, John couldn't help the smirk that grew on his face as he felt the hard line of Sherlock's erection pushing into his stomach.

John felt an answering heat flush towards his own groin. He ground Sherlock's hips against him, savouring the groan that dragged itself from Sherlock's lips at the sensation. Arousal was almost a Pavlovian response to this situation. Each time they 'practised their self-defence', as Sherlock still insisted on calling it, they ended up with the winner having his way with the loser. Well, tonight, John intended to win.

A quick glance around Sherlock's midriff showed that the kitchen table was about ten paces away and, for once, was actually clean of any questionable experiments. Perfect. John pressed his open mouth against Sherlock's chest, feeling the heat of his skin through the dress shirt while he moved as quickly as he could towards the kitchen. Sherlock struggled somewhat while still managing to press his pelvis against John's stomach. Just as his arms were beginning to get tired, John felt the table brush his arms.

He heaved and managed to land Sherlock squarely on the table surface. John heard the whoosh of breath as it was forced out of him and smirked in response. While Sherlock lay there on his back, trying to get his breath back, John pounced. He jerked Sherlock’s shirt up and out of his trousers without bothering to undo the buttons. The shirt tangled under Sherlock’s arms, but John didn’t care.

His tongue licked a swath down Sherlock’s stomach, pausing to flick into his belly button. Sherlock moaned in response, shifting restlessly on the table top. One of his hands curled into John’s hair. John pulled back, ignoring the whine that sounded in response. The whine changed to a moan when John grabbed both of his hands and forced them down on either side of the table. He leaned up over Sherlock’s torso, feeling the heat of his skin even through all the layers of clothes.

“You don’t get to touch,” he growled low against Sherlock’s lips, swallowing the groan that was Sherlock’s only response. “Hold the table legs. Don’t let go,” he said, fixing Sherlock with the look he used to use on stubborn privates during his days in the Army. John stood still while he waited for Sherlock to respond. After a second’s hesitation, he reached down and grabbed the far table legs with his hands. John nearly growled as pleasure zinged through his body at the sight.

John licked another stripe on Sherlock’s stomach, glorying in the moan that he didn’t try to contain. He licked his way up the pale chest, tasting the sweat that had started to glisten on his skin. Sherlock groaned and moved restlessly against the hard wooden table. John felt his erection growing where he leaned over Sherlock, pressing him against the table top. As he licked his way along the path made by Sherlock’s chest hair, John’s nose eventually bumped into the bottom edge of his tangled shirt.

Pushing the fabric aside with the tip of his nose, John licked his way over to Sherlock’s left nipple. He flicked the tight bud a couple of times with his tongue, enjoying the soft noises that Sherlock made as he became grew more aroused. John’s teeth flashed and closed gently on the sensitive nub and tugged slightly.

“John!” Sherlock cried in response, his hips arching off the table and almost pushing John off him. He let go and immediately licked the area, soothing the ache. Sherlock moaned again, sounding more than a little frantic. John loved seeing him come apart at the seams, when Sherlock willing let go and let John take him apart piece by piece. Sherlock was so controlled in everything other aspect of his life that it was humbling that he trusted John enough to drop his guard this completely.

After a couple minutes playing with his nipples, John licked his way back down his chest, heading once more towards Sherlock's belly button. Sherlock squirmed as his tongue dipped into the little divot. John deliberately lingered there, teasing the ticklish flesh for a minute longer before moving even lower. His hands fumbled slightly with the button on Sherlock's trousers, the very prominent ridge of hot flesh beneath it drawing the material taught. Finally, though, the button sprang free and Sherlock cried in relief. John moved swiftly to pull both Sherlock's trousers and pants off. As the material hit the linoleum behind him, John paused, eagerly drinking in the sight of Sherlock looking so debauched as he writhed mostly naked on their table. 

"John... please..."

John smirked and licked Sherlock's belly button one more time, ignoring the pleading and wriggles that tried to move John's mouth to where Sherlock wanted it. After another short pause, one that was just long enough to make Sherlock groan in frustration, John continued to lick his way down Sherlock’s torso, following the heavier trail of hair that lead straight down to his groin.

Determined to drive Sherlock crazy, John skipped over his straining cock for a minute and headed towards the crease of Sherlock's thigh. He wanted to enjoy the frustrated begging just a little bit longer. Sherlock was being very good tonight, though; his hands still hadn't left the table legs, despite his growing desperation to have John’s mouth on more … sensitive … areas of his body.

Finally taking pity on his him, John moved and hovered his mouth over the hot length of Sherlock's cock for a second, letting his breath wash over the heated skin. Sherlock's hips bucked fiercely, which made the leaking tip brush against John's lips. The contact made both of them groan. Giving up on teasing, John sunk his mouth onto the hot length, moaning slightly as the head slipped over his tongue. He continued downward slowly, his tongue flicking around the shaft as it moved through his mouth, until the head bumped into the back of his throat.

He paused there, savouring both the feeling of having Sherlock filling his mouth, especially when combined with the ragged noises that were coming out of Sherlock's mouth. He wasn't sure if Sherlock even knew what he was saying at this point, but he supposed it didn't really matter. They both knew what they wanted. John started moving, pulling back until the head popped out of his mouth with an obscene pop that made Sherlock groan.

"Don't come, Sherlock," he warned in his best Captain Watson voice, smiling as another groan filled the air. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes!" he answered after a moment's pause, sounding more than a little desperate. A predatory smile spread over John's face for a second, only to vanish as he took Sherlock's cock back in his mouth. It only took a few long strokes to reduce Sherlock back to incoherent babble. As the head hit the back of John's throat yet again, he paused, feeling it pulse in his mouth and running his tongue along the vein on the underside.

Sherlock's hips thrashed, causing John to choke a little. He backed off slightly to catch his breath, while Sherlock swore and tried to apologize above him. A second later, John took a deep breath and pushed back down, this time not stopping when the head hit his soft palate. John relaxed his throat and kept pushing. He got most of the head into his throat before he had to pause.

He could tell that Sherlock was desperately holding himself still and fighting the urge to force his cock all the way into John's throat. John was pleased with his restraint; as much as he wanted to, he hadn't been able to deep-throat Sherlock yet. Tonight wasn’t the right time to continue practising though, because he had something else in mind. So he slowly pulled back again, not stopping until the whole cock had slipped past his lips.

Before Sherlock could guess what was going to happen next, John grabbed his thighs and pressed them upwards towards his stomach. He spread them wide, taking a second to admire the sight of Sherlock spread open and helpless.

"What..." he heard Sherlock ask, but he didn't give him time to complete his question. He licked along the underside of his cock and then sucking one of his bollocks into his mouth. The hair tickled his nose as he lapped at first one, then the other. He didn't linger too long over them, however; he could tell that Sherlock was just barely hanging onto the edge of his orgasm and he didn’t want him coming too soon.

So he moved further down, lapping for a second at his perineum, which made Sherlock pant loudly. John looked up a minute and saw Sherlock staring down at him. He could see that brilliant mind trying to work, trying to figure out what John was doing. They hadn't done this yet; back when they had first started sleeping together, they had discussed limits and boundaries, of course and rimming was something they were both interested in. But so far, they hadn't gotten around to trying it.

"John?" Sherlock breathed uncertainty, obviously not sure why he had stopped.

"Is this OK?" he asked finally, flicking his tongue on the sensitive patch of skin again. Sherlock swallowed visibly.

"Yes...please…yes..."

John smiled and finally licked his way back towards his puckered opening. Flicking his tongue against it, John felt his own cock throb as he felt it tremble against his tongue. Sherlock let out a positively sinful moan, which John absolutely had to hear again.

Again and again, he flicked his tongue against his anus, marvelling at each little flick made Sherlock grow more frantic. Using his shoulders to support Sherlock's thighs, John snaked a hand around and grasped Sherlock's dripping cock.

He timed the first stroke with a particularly forceful lick, poking the tip of his tongue into the tight pucker. Sherlock shouted, babbling incoherently as John repeated the motion. It was glorious. The feel of Sherlock's fluttering muscles around his tongue and the copious amounts of pre-come leaking out of his cock were intoxicating.

"Please, John, please," Sherlock babbled, his head thrashing from side to side on the table. "I'm so close." John kept going, easing the pressure of his strokes just to keep Sherlock on the edge as long as he could. When one of Sherlock's heels began to dig into his shoulder, John grunted in response before pulling back, ignoring Sherlock's moan of protest and whispered just one word, his head pressed against Sherlock’s thigh.

"Come."

He watched as Sherlock's eyes fluttered closed and his back arched. A second later, his whole body tensed and his cock in John's hand got even harder. Then, the first spurt of white come shot out of the tip and John watched, mesmerized, as spurt after spurt followed it, all landing on Sherlock's stomach. From his position, he could see Sherlock's anus flutter throughout the orgasm, obviously searching for something to clasp around. Sherlock, lost in the throes of orgasm, was one of the most beautiful and erotic sights he could ever imagine.

As he stood there watching, John felt his own cock protesting mightily at its neglect. He was more turned on than he could remember being in quite a while. A few seconds later, his trousers were undone and pushed down his thighs along with his pants, without him being conscious of undressing. His cock was rock hard and leaking copiously.

Sherlock must have sensed what he was doing, because his head lifted up from the table and he stared at the sight of John's red cock framed by his khaki trousers. His eyes looked like he was having trouble focusing, but John couldn't miss the hungry look that came over his face as he watched John stroke himself. Sherlock finally let go of the table legs as he struggled to sit up. John frowned for a minute, but kept stroking as he watched Sherlock try to remember how to move.

He was surprised when Sherlock managed to pull himself completely off the table, and became a bit worried when he fell clumsily to his knees. But a second later, the worry vanished as one trembling hand came up and knocked his hand away from his cock. John’s eyes tried to drift close as he felt Sherlock begin to stroke him. As he swayed slightly, trying to keep his balance as he grew closer to coming, he saw those pale eyes peak up through his sweat-soaked fringe and his tongue peaked out to lick at those lush, pale lips.

"Please," he begged quietly and John's breath caught at the tone of his voice. It was the sound of pure want. "Please, can I suck your cock?" John nodded; speech was completely beyond his now, and his eyes followed the plump lips as they moved deliberately towards him. As they clasped around the throbbing, leaking tip, John's world contracted to that single point of contact. His fingers became entangled in Sherlock's hair without any conscious thought and he fought the urge to start thrusting into that warm, tempting mouth.

"I'm not going to last much longer," he admitted, his voice sounding strangled. Sherlock just hummed around him and started bobbing faster. It was less than a minute later when he felt his bollocks tighten and he tried to grunt a warning, but it was too late. Sherlock's mouth tightened around his cock, his tongue flicked up against the sensitive vein on the underside, and John was finished. He didn't hear himself shout or feel his hands tighten in Sherlock's hair. He almost blacked out as he came deep in Sherlock's mouth.

It took what felt like several minutes before John finally came down. He gently untangled his fingers from the soaked black curls and looked down at Sherlock. He looked completely sated, having fallen out of his kneeling position and he was now leaning back against one of the table legs.

John reached down and helped him up to his feet. They were both shaky and it took a few minutes before they stopped shaking enough to move. They would need to shower at some point, but right now, John directed Sherlock back to their bedroom. They flopped down on the bed, wrapped up in each other's arms, savouring the press of their bodies. The stresses and frustration of the day had been forgotten and John felt truly at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the porn-iest thing I've ever written. The first section was only ever designed to be a one-off, but the response was strong enough that I kept coming back to this idea. There will probably be at least one more section to this series.
> 
> Feedback, comments are certainly welcome. You can keep in touch with me at my tumblrs:  
> Main fandom: http://amylaura76.tumblr.com/  
> Writing: http://amylaurawrites.tumblr.com/


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